


Salvation is Red

by Kelandry5



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Addiction, Basketball, Cutting, Depression, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Multiple Personalities, Panic Attacks, Protective Akashi Seijuurou, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Teiko, kuroko needs a hug
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-30
Updated: 2017-04-10
Packaged: 2018-10-12 21:31:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10499853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kelandry5/pseuds/Kelandry5
Summary: As Kuroko watches his team fall apart and his friends drift further and further away from him, he travels down a dark path he never meant to step foot on.Too busy saving the others, who will save him?Akakuro in later chaptersTerrible summary, sorry!





	1. Open Wounds

**Author's Note:**

> In case you didn't read the tags....This work includes depictions of Self-harm. You have been warned.

Growing up, we dream about our future. We dream of being lawyers, doctors, police officers, soldiers, and vets. We talk about all the things we will do and dream of the relationships we will have. We promise to say no to drugs because, of course, we would never do something like that. We say eww to the idea of smoking and sex swearing we won’t do those things either. We will be strong. We will pursue our dreams. We don’t dream of doing drugs. We don’t talk about becoming a gang member. We don’t talk about committing suicide. We don’t imagine ourselves selling our body for a few thousand yen. We don’t see ourselves living in our parents basement at 30 years old as a jobless lump. We don’t predict getting drunk every night to escape whatever hell hole we’ve landed in or taking a new sex partner every night, too afraid to commit to anyone. 

As children, we don’t think we will grow up with scars on our wrists. Our answer to the question of what we want to be when we grow up isn’t dead. We don’t imagine bleeding in the bathtub as tears stream down our cheeks. We don’t dream of pressing that cold metal blade to pale wrists and pulling it across. We don’t think we would let ourselves sink into such an addiction. At least, most of us don’t. There are exceptions, but Kuroko was not one of these exceptions.  
It was an accident, as much of one as it could be. It was his third year of middle school. His basketball team was falling apart. The teamwork he valued so much was taking a backseat to victory. His friends were leaving him behind both on and off the court. His favorite sport no longer brought any joy. His life was destructing, but he was managing. He still tried to cling to the hope that things could better.  
Then one day, his hope was crushed. His world grew so dark it might as well have been pitch black.

That day had been particularly bad. He had run off towards the end of practice to find Aomine after the latter stormed out of the gym. He wanted to talk to him. No. He needed to talk to him.  It didn’t end well. As if to mirror his inner cries, the sky began to pour buckets of rain as he headed back to the gym, where yet another disappointment awaited. The Akashi Seijuro he found in the gym when he returned was not the Akashi Seijuro he knew. Kuroko was unaware of what events transpired during his absence, but something must have gone terribly wrong. He managed to lose two friends that day. He would soon lose himself as well. His teammates weren’t the only ones who were changing.

Kuroko didn’t bother changing out of his wet clothes or opening his umbrella on the walk home. He didn’t see the point. When he opened the front door to his house, it was quiet and dark. His grandmother was in the hospital again and his parents were rarely ever home. Usually, he minded, but not this time. He didn’t want to talk to anyone. He didn’t want to see anyone. He certainly didn’t want to fake being okay for anyone.

He dragged his feet up the stairs to his room and finally pulled off his wet clothes. He probably should have taken a warm bath, but he opted to dry off and put on some dry clothes instead. He was about to climb into bed when his eyes caught sight of a pair of scissors open on his desk. It shouldn’t have meant anything. He should have left them alone.

He didn’t.

He walked over and picked them up pressing the blade against his fingers. Kuroko didn’t know why he thought of it in that moment and never before, but he remembered a kid who used to cut himself with scissors. Supposedly it made him feel better.

* * *

 

Decisions should never be made when one is angry or depressed. Too bad Kuroko would learn that lesson a little too late. Wiping the tears from his eyes first, he pressed the blade of the scissors against his wrist and pulled it across.

The cut was thin. Only a few small beads of blood seeped through the crack in the skin, but the relief was intoxicating. It was small, but he wanted more. So, he drew a few more lines on his skin. A few more drops of blood oozed out. That kid was right. He was still upset, but he felt better, calmer. He laid on his bed and stared at the ceiling unaware of the tiny smile creasing his lips.

Kuroko never intended to do it again. When he woke up the next day, he regretted his decision. It was impulsive and he knew it was wrong. He made a promise. He promised himself he would never cut again. Then he put on his wristbands to hide the cuts and went to school.

* * *

 

He broke the promise.

Only a week later, he was crying in his room again and brought the scissors to his wrist.  Again, the cuts were thin and shallow barely drawing any blood, but it was enough.

However it wasn’t enough for long. Two months passed and he was cutting at least twice a week. Sometimes he used his wrists and other times he used his hip. It felt better on the wrist, but space was limited. But the shallow cuts stopped providing relief. It was as if he had grown immune to them. He went to the hardware store and bought a box cutter with extra blades. He didn’t want to look suspicious, so he bought a hammer and nails as well.

That night he cut with a razor. At this point, he knew he was addicted, but he didn’t care. The euphoria was keeping him sane. It was allowing him some peace which he desperately needed as things with his teammates and friends continued to spiral downhill. There were no more promises of quitting now.

The cutting became more frequent.

Watching his teammates patronize other teams and beat them as though it were a joke was more than Kuroko could take. When they started having contests to see who could score most, it was too much. Then his teammates claimed they were doing exactly what he told them to. The emotions that welled up in Kuroko’s heart swore to destroy him. He couldn’t watch his team like this anymore. He wanted to cry and scream, to remove his emotionless mask and let out the pain within. He remained silent and expressionless even though his eyes burned with tears that threatened to spill.

 

* * *

 

Kuroko cut before a game. He stood in the bathroom stall with the razor loosely held in his palm and stared at the scared flesh of his hip. Placing the sharp edge of the blade against an unmarked patch of skin, he dug in and pulled. The sting, the rush of endorphins, the familiar sight of blood, and the warm wet drops oozing between two flaps of previously connected skin sent a flood of relief throughout his body calming him and preparing his mind for the upcoming torture. However, that initial relief wasn’t what he was after.

He made sure to bandage it well with plenty of gauze to soak up the blood and strong medical tape to hold the gauze in place. It would be a problem if the blood were to leak through his clothing, though he briefly wondered if anyone would notice. He wondered if anyone would care.

With the task done, he joined his team on the court for warm up. When the game started, it was like usual. Teiko toyed with its opponents and its opponents barely fought back. What was the point?

Kuroko watched feeling the turmoil of emotions coursing through him becoming almost unbearable. His hand drifted toward the recent wound on his hip and applied pressure till a soothing sting radiated from it. Maybe he had to watch his team beat the fight out of their opponents in cruel ways. Maybe he even had to take part of it during the second half. As long as he could press down on the wound and initiate another small flood of relief, he could endure. He did endure.

* * *

 

Soon, he discovered even more effective places to cut before games. Cutting his wrist- assuming there was any available space- was more efficient than his hip and required less bandaging and worry. Even if the blood leaked through, his wristbands were black and thick. It wouldn’t matter. It was also easier to grab his wrist and the sting was more potent.

Shallow cuts on his feet were his preferred method for games he knew he would play in. He didn’t have to cut deep and they were easily covered. The cuts would sting with every step or shift of his foot inside his shoe providing an almost constant distraction from the hell he was forced to witness and participate in. He didn’t have to go out of his way to initiate the relief either. Whereas grabbing his wrist or pressing his hand against his hip for a dose of calmness during a game was challenging, simply moving his feet was an unavoidable occurrence.

The worse his teammates acted on the court, the more he cut. And of course, whenever he was home or at school dealing with more than he could handle, the blade sought out his skin as well. And with time, the only way he felt alive was by cutting or otherwise harming himself. The only way he could deal with the onslaught of emotions and fears was by bleeding. He was addicted and he didn’t want to change that. Harming himself became the only way he could live.

And it was to live. He wasn’t suicidal. He never once pressed the blade against his skin with the intent to drain away his life. The blade was to sustain life, not take it. He wanted to live. He was desperate to live. This addiction was how he kept himself from dying. It was how he kept the overwhelming emotions and raw fear from tearing his body apart limb by limb till nothing remained. He courted death to avoid its wrath, or so he mused.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments/Feedback appreciated!!!!  
> Next: Third year Nationals.
> 
> Pretty sure I abused the line break thingys in this.


	2. Selfish

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2! Since I used some lines and scenes from the original story, I just want to say I do not own those and they are the property of Tadatoshi Fujimaki.
> 
> Anyway...enjoy.
> 
> Also, I wrote this super fast, so if you see any mistakes, please let me know!! Thank you. I edited super fast too :(

 

The preliminaries for nationals flew by with Teiko destroying every opponent in their path without mercy. There were no smiles or celebrations. There was no teamwork. There was no challenge. Every match up to the semi-finals had been won without the opponent managing to score even ten points. Meanwhile, Teiko racked up well over a hundred points.

Like routine, Kuroko slipped into the bathroom before joining his team on the court for the semi-final match against Kamata West. He untied his sneakers and removed his socks letting his bare foot rest atop the toilet seat. From his pocket he pulled a cool metal razor and placed the sharp edge across the top of his foot. One slice. Two. Three. Four. Five. He pulled the blade across with only a slight bit of pressure reopening scarred skin. With seven cuts total, he pulled his socks and shoe on without bothering to wipe away the blood. Kuroko repeated the process on his other foot.

For good measure, he removed his left wristband as well and made a tiny shallow cut on the red angry skin before covering it back up. Not knowing what to expect of the next two games was making him anxious. The extra cut was the dose of calmness he desperately needed to cling to. With that taken care of, he wiped the blood from the blade with a square of toilet paper and flushed away the evidence then pocketed the blade.

Pushing the stall door open, he came face to face with his captain. Akashi’s face was unreadable and no words were spoken. Akashi stepped aside and watched Kuroko approach the sink and wash his hands. If he saw the tiny amount of blood under Kuroko’s nails, he didn’t mention it. If he knew what his smallest teammate was doing just moments ago, he was pretending he didn’t. It didn’t matter to him. Kuroko was just a pawn in a game. His personal life was of no interest to Akashi.

Drying his hands, Kuroko schooled his expression to remain expressionless despite the slight panic rising in his chest. “Are you not using the bathroom, Akashi-kun?”

“You were taking too long. I simply came to see if you had run off or not.” Akashi replied almost coldly.

“I needed a moment to think.” Kuroko explained hoping Akashi wouldn’t question the matter further. It was a weak lie at best that he had no way of elaborating if forced.

Akashi only nodded and turned around leaving Kuroko to ponder his actions before tossing the used towel and running after him.

As they approach the bench, Kuroko overhears Kise mentioning Meiko won against Kyosen. Kuroko pauses in his tracks. If Meiko won against Kyosen, Teiko will be playing Meiko in the finals. He can finally fulfill his promise with his best friend Ogiwara to play against him.

A small undetectable smile turns up his lips before he manages to squash it once again. Taking a step forward, he makes his presence known. “Coach.”

The Teiko coach turns and eyes him almost disinterestedly. “What is it?”

“Can you put me in from the start of next game?”

“Wha? You’re suddenly totally motivated!” Kise exclaims from his spot on the bench.

“What in fact happened, Kuroko?” Midorima inquires seeming just as confused. After all, Kuroko had been acting rather indifferent for all the other games. Even when he wasn’t indifferent, he never made such a request before.

The coach’s reaction was much the same asking if Kuroko had a particular reason.

“Hai.” Kuroko replied without further elaboration. His eyes spoke of enough determination to convince the coach though.

“Very well. You will be starting then. Get ready.”

“Thank you.” Kuroko gave a polite bow and removed his t-shirt to expose his jersey.

Kuroko didn’t need to look in the audience to know Ogiwara was watching Teiko’s game with Kamata West. If their roles were reversed, Kuroko would certainly be following his friends every movement. It was only natural.

Perhaps knowing his best friend was watching caused him to act too impulsively. Perhaps fate just wanted to toy with him for amusement. Maybe he was too tired for his reflexes to work fast enough. The reason why it happened mattered not. Kuroko ran to steal the ball and was elbowed in the head instead. There was only the briefest moment for regret before his world went black.

* * *

 

The light is bright when his eyes flicker open again, but they aren’t the lights in the basketball court. A quick scan of his surroundings tells Kuroko he must be in the infirmiry and the game must be over, otherwise Momoi and Akashi wouldn’t be beside his bed.

“Tetsu-kun.” Momoi exclaims clasping her hands against her chest with a worried expression.

Akashi meets Kuroko’s eyes from his seat on the stool. “How are you doing?” He asked with the barest hint of concern.

“Akashi-kun….Momoi-san….What about the game?”

“Of course we won.” Akashi informs without an ounce of enthusiasm, only assuredness that there was never any other possible result. “The finals will begin in five minutes.”

“I’ll play too.” Kuroko begins to sit up.

“Tetsu-kun……”

“You can’t.” Akashi stops Kuroko before he can even remove the covers. “The doctor told us to keep you in bed. So behave and lie down.”

“But-“ Kuroko attempted to protest only to be shut down again.

“I know. It’s about Ogiwara-kun isn’t it? I met him in the hallway just now. ‘We’ll make sure to play again!’ That’s what he said.”

“I see.” Clenching the blanket in his hands Kuroko gathers his resolve and stares straight into Akashi’s eyes. “Akashi-kun, please go full strength in the finals...please.”

“You don’t care how much we win by?” Akashi stands and eyes Kuroko with something Kuroko can’t quite decipher. Curiosity perhaps?

“”I’d hate it more if you went easy on me.” I’m sure that’s what he would say.” Kuroko smiled slightly at the thought of his best friend saying those words full of enthusiasm even if he had lost.

Akashi nodded which Kuroko took as a silent promise to do as he was asked. When Akashi left the room, Kuroko settled back onto the pillow and closed his eyes. He hated that he couldn’t play his best friend once again. There was nothing that could be done though. In truth, just sitting up had left him with a slight dizziness he would never admit to. He couldn’t have played.

* * *

 

Despite trying to relax, Kuroko found it impossible. He needed to know how the game was progressing. When Momoi returns to his side, he asks how the game is going. It’s already the fourth quarter and Teiko is winning of course.

Pushing himself up and off the bed, thankful the dizziness has subsided, he makes his way towards the door. He can’t sit still. There’s a need burning inside him to see how the game ends. “I’m going to look.” He informs.

“You shouldn’t.” Momoi tries to protest but it’s pointless.

“At the least, I want to see the results with my own eyes.”

Unable to resist Kuroko’s wishes, Momoi followed Kuroko down the hallway till they reached one of the screens streaming the game.

“With this lead, it looks like we’ll be fine.” Momoi commented.

Kuroko was about to agree till he looked at the scoreboard closer. He looked back at the positions of his teammates and something clicked in his brain. Something was wrong….very wrong. “It can’t be…” he muttered to himself more than to anyone else before taking off ignoring Momoi’s calls after him.

When he approaches the court, it’s just in time to see Murasakibara ‘help’ Ogiwara’s shot into Teiko’s basket and the full realization of what his team is doing crashes into him. The buzzar goes off signaling the end of the game but Kuroko doesn’t hear it over his thoughts. Teiko set the scores. Kuroko asked Akashi to play their hardest…..not….not do this. Not make a fool of his best friend. Not….not whatever this was.

Every step that drew Kuroko closer to the court was slow. His legs felt like they were weighted down with lead balls and chains, but he needed to see Ogiwara. He needed to say something. Do something. Anything.

Then Ogiwara’s eyes met his. Ogiwara whispered Kuroko’s name as tears welled in his wide shocked eyes and Kuroko couldn’t respond. What was he supposed to do? What could he say? Turning to watch his teammates leave the court, the weight of betrayal and misery threatens to crush him. He presses against his wrist desperate for a dose of relief but none comes. The sounds around him are deafening. The stadium lights are blinding. The pain forming in his chest is near unbearable and he wonders why. Why would his teammates stomp upon his promise with his friend? Why did he have to play a part in causing such pain to take over Ogiwara’s eyes? Why was the crowd cheering for their victory when all he felt was nauseating pain? Why? Why?

* * *

 

Sitting at the table in the locker room, Kuroko couldn’t meet Akashi’s eyes. He couldn’t meet the eyes of any of his teammates. His fist clenched in his lap, he stared at the table in front of him in search of answers it didn’t have before finally deciding to ask the one who might.

“Why did you do such a thing?” He asked unable to keep the slight tremble from his voice or the pain from his eyes. His expressionless mask was breaking, but what did it matter? Everything else was already broken. His team, his friendship, his heart. What did it matter if one more thing laid shattered upon the floor.

“We merely controlled the game. The players showed more concentration compared to when they keep scoring without a set goal.” Akashi responded and Kuroko thought his voice had never sounded colder….never sounded less remorseful.

 “That’s not it! What I want to say…” Kuroko tried to amend his words. He tried to find the question that would illicit the response he was searching for.

He didn’t need to. All knowing Akashi replied without the question. “If you mean by us not slacking, why didn’t you say anything before our other games? You look the other way when they have nothing to do with you, but when you play your friends, you say things like that?”

Akashi’s reply stabbed Kuroko with a truth he would rather not face. Because Kuroko had sat by and watched them toy with countless other teams. He said nothing then. He never asked why. He never objected….at least not aloud.

He never once requested such favors of his teammates before any other games either. His actions were selfish, ruled by what benefitted him and what did not. He was selfish. He had no right. And it hurt. The realization of his actions, his forced self-awareness, the events that had transpired today….it hurt in a way he couldn’t describe with words. It hurt and he could barely hear the rest of the banter that continued around him.

Kise acted surprised at the realization of what had happened saying Kuroko should have said his friend was on the other team. They wouldn’t have done it if they had known.

Murasakibara disagreed in his lazy way pointing out that they would get bored trying to go all out and racking up points.

Midorima insisted he didn’t care how the others played and acted as though he was removed from the situation.

And Aomine…..Kuroko’s first friend in Teiko and the one who used to be his ‘light’. He almost sounded regretful. But Kuroko knew he wasn’t regretting what he did as much as he was lamenting on the lack of powerful challengers and how boring the sport had become. In the end, none of his teammates truly cared and Kuroko couldn’t find it in himself to be angry with them. They were selfish and so was he.

* * *

 

Kuroko made his way through the rain and the crowds of people till he reached his street and finally his front door. Opening it, he stepped into the hallway of the cold, dark, and empty apartment. It might have been funny, he thought, how alike it was to that day he first drew lines upon his pale skin. All alone with his pain and tears that fell no differently that the raindrops outside his window, it was the same as the first time as he entered the bathroom.

There were differences though. He turned the knob on the wall and let the tub fill with warm water. As the water rose, he removed his clothes and sat on the tubs edge holding his trusted razor against his wrist and pulling it across. Tears splashed on the cuts and mixed with the blood seeping through the cracked skin. The mixture ran down his hands and arm till it dripped into the bathwater tinging it with red.

Kuroko never cut with the intent to die. He never wanted to die. Not until today. Now, he wasn’t so sure what his intentions were. He certainly felt like dying. The idea seemed soothing, far more than it should have. Yet he knew the cuts wouldn’t be enough. The blood was spilling faster now, but it wasn’t enough to kill him.

Setting the razor to the side, he turned the knob till the water stopped flowing from the faucet, and eased him body into the warm water. It served to ease his physical aches, but the anguish in his heart could not be comforted by the warmth of water or anything else.

The tears came quicker now. He could taste the saltiness on his lips that quivered and parted in quiet wails from time to time until he pressed them together firmly. Clenching his fists and closing his eyes, Kuroko slid his body down till his head was submerged beneath the red tinted water.

His lips parted again and bubbles rose to the surface but he didn’t emerge. His eyes opened to stare at nothing in particular as the need for air grew. He continued to refuse his body’s please and a dull ache spread through his head. His limbs began to flail in a half attempt to struggle for air and half attempt to stay under and see his death through.

Kuroko wanted to die.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback/comments appreciated!!
> 
> Next up: Seirin!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick note: None of my stories will be updated again until sometime after mid-August. I am currently out of town with limited internet access and spare time so I apologize. I'll be back to writing again in August though!
> 
>  
> 
> Also, I apologize for being so slow to update this story in general. Because of the themes and how close the story is to my own experiences, I have to be careful to only work on this when I'm in the right mindset or it's too triggering.....which is why the updates are slow. Sorry!

He wanted to die.

He was sure of it.

But he couldn’t do it.

Maybe he was weak.

Maybe he still had some unfinished business or attachments to this cruel world.

Maybe he still loved his teammates….

Maybe he still had hope.

Maybe he was just afraid.

He just couldn’t force himself to stay under the water a second longer and emerged gasping for air. Coughs racked his entire body, oxygen was gulped into his angry lungs and tears mixed with the warm water running down his face.

It took several minutes to regain his bearings but once he did, he slumped back and rested his head against the cool porcelain of the tub. He could try again, but he only had the will left to cry. Any strength or resolve to permanently disappear from this existence was failing speedily. His being was weak and his ragged breaths and quiet whimpers echoed in the small bathroom till the water began to cool.

When he calmed down, he peeked at his wrist to see the blood had almost ceased to leak from the cuts. That didn’t change the fact that the bathwater was tinged in the crimson liquid and as much as he wanted to curl up under his covers and sleep forever, he would have to shower and clean the tub first.

Failed suicides are more trouble that they were worth.

* * *

 

He supposed he could no longer claim he wasn’t suicidal. He failed his attempt, if it could even be called that, but the thoughts still lingered. A good night’s rest didn’t chase them away, or a nights rest anyway. It wasn’t what he considered good.

Kuroko didn’t make any more active attempts on his life though. He didn’t lean over the edge of a tall building or stand on a busy road. He didn’t put a gun to his temple or a noose around his neck. Instead, he was just reckless.

He didn’t look both ways before crossing the street. He wasn’t cautious with how deep he dug the blade into his skin. He didn’t go out of his way to eat every day or sleep or much of anything else. He wasn’t careful about staying awake in the bath. He wasn’t paranoid about staying on well-lit paths when walking around at night. He sometimes ‘forgot’ to lock his door. He just didn’t bother with the usual self-preservation antics most maintained. He was reckless. If he couldn’t kill himself intentionally, maybe he could tempt fate into a happy little accident?

* * *

 

Kuroko spent the last few months of middle school avoiding the basketball club. In fact, he planned to avoid basketball for the rest of his hopefully not-much-longer life if at all possible. That was the plan. However, plans never seemed to work out for him.

Before graduation, he made the trip out to Meiko Middle school. He hoped to speak to Ogiwara since the orange haired boy hadn’t replied to his texts or calls, not the he could blame him. It wasn’t that Kuroko seeked forgiveness- he had no such hope nor would he ask for such a high favor- nor did he have a plan for what he would do or say when he actually came face to his childhood friend. He just felt compelled to go…to make a last attempt at……something. Yes, he had to try for something.

Ogiwara wasn’t at basketball club practice. He wasn’t at the school period. He had already left. The game at nationals had destroyed his love for basketball and when Kuroko found out Ogiwara quit, he might have given up on life entirely right there and then had he not been in the company of one of Ogiwara’s former teammates. To further complicate matters, said teammate had a few words for him….including telling him not to quit. Kuroko wasn’t like the others, that’s what Ogiwara said.

Ogiwara believed in Kuroko. He believed Kuroko could change the GOM back to their former selves. It was a flicker of hope Kuroko almost didn’t dare grasp on to. He had enough reasons to believe hope was futile. Still, perhaps with only a few hesitant fingers, he held onto the glimmer of hope and motivation.

* * *

 

The club fair for Seirin high school unfolded similarly to the one in Teiko. Kuroko shuffled through the crowd, nose buried in a book and completely unnoticed by the other students. One of the perks of being invisible and using misdirection was escaping the numerous pleas and handouts from various clubs hell bent on gathering new members.

Kuroko wasn’t sure he wanted to join any clubs. Although it was recommended, Seirin didn’t require students to join one. Of course he had considered the basketball club. The words of Ogiwara’s teammate still stuck with him and honestly, he couldn’t think of a way to meet Ogiwara’s expectations of him without joining the basketball club. He couldn’t very well restore his former teammates by joining the literature club. What would he do? Throw books at them until they agreed to get off their high horses and enjoy basketball again? Because that would certainly work.

No….the only way to accomplish anything was to find the basketball club and join. He chose Seirin because he admired their team play and enthusiasm. Certainly there wouldn’t be a repeat of the past. As far as he knew, Seirin wasn’t focused solely on victory and the school and club was too young to have a reputation to uphold. Two major differences from Teiko. It would be okay, he assured himself. If things took a turn for the worse….he could always run away….again.

For courage, Kuroko pressed down on a more recent cut hidden beneath his wrist band and relished in the slight sting that chased away some of his building anxiety. He eyed the map till his eyes landed on the basketball club booth location.

No one saw him approach. No one noticed him fill out an application. Kuroko almost smiled at how oblivious they were to his existence….almost. He hadn’t smiled in a long while now and his muscles probably didn’t remember how to make such an expression. Still, there was the slightest hint of warmth mixed in to the apprehension engulfing his mind as he stepped away from the table leaving the application where someone would hopefully see it.

* * *

 

Seirin tryouts were……..not what he expected. Compared to the number of members and prospective members of Teiko’s basketball club, the Seirin gym might as well have been empty. However, that wasn’t what caught his attention most.

Seirin was……unique….

Besides the fact there were no third years because the school was only in its second year, the coach was a second year student. A ferocious second year student, Kuroko would later amend his thoughts. Not only that, but instead of starting with drills or any of the usual ways a practice or tryout might begin…the prospective members were asked to…… strip?

Absolutely nothing like Teiko at all.

And that was comforting. Every little difference gave him hope.

But he still kept his guard up, more so than ever before. While the unfortunate events and mishaps that had befallen the Teiko first string seemed worlds away from this new team, he was cautious. He spoke little and his face betrayed even less.

* * *

 

He could only be but so cautious though. The simple facts were he was a shadow and as a shadow, he needed a light. That meant he would have to let someone in at least a little bit. He couldn’t shoot and his dribbling skills were sub-par. Actually, outside of passing, his skills on the court were…..practically non-existent. He couldn’t bring his friends back alone.

So he enlisted the help of one tall ill-mannered Kagami Taiga. It was a risky move. Kagami was a lot like Aomine had been before everything changed. He had a lot of raw talent but had yet to fully bloom, an event that could very well lead to a similar outcome as Aomine’s if Kuroko wasn’t careful. Perhaps that was why, even after promising to be Kagami’s shadow and help Seirin become the best team in Japan, Kuroko maintained his distance from the tall red head. Emotionally speaking anyway. It’s hard to keep physical distance between you and your partner, especially when said partner keeps grabbing you by the head. Just because Kuroko’s head happened to be at the right height for all his friends to grab him by it or ruffle his hair, didn’t mean they were invited to do so!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Just a quick note. I'm going to mostly summarize what happens in the anime. The main part of this story doesn't take place until after Winter Cup and if you are reading this fic, I'm assuming you have either watched the anime or read the manga so you know what happens for the most part. Only a few events that are either changed or viewed as important for this particular story will actually be detailed. Sorry if you were hoping for something else. It's a bit weird for me to do it this way, but oh well. Anyway, I hope you still enjoy.
> 
> Next chapter: Kise, Midorima, and......Aomine....


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